impressed by the coxswain's words, he exclaimed in a peculiarly angry
voice, as he stared straight before him--"I refuse to take the blame,
Captain Maitland. I did my duty by you and toward the brave, patient
fellows under my charge. If there is any one to blame it is yourself
for leaving us behind. Quite right, Vandean. Now, my lad, for a good
drink. The water's deliciously cool and sweet, and what a beautiful
river. Ahoy! What ship's that?"

He lurched forward as he suddenly ceased speaking, uttered a low groan,
and but for Tom Fillot's strong arm he would have gone overboard.

The sailor lowered him down into the bottom of the boat, where he lay
back, and Mark took his kerchief from his neck, soaked it in the
sea-water, wrung it out, and then laid it over the poor fellow's brow,
ending by gazing inquiringly in the oarsman's face, as if asking for
help.

"That's all you can do, sir," said the man, sadly.

"Touch o' sunstroke, and he's got it worse than the rest on us."

"Shall I bathe his face with the water, Tom?"

"No, sir, I don't know as I would. It might make him thirstier and
worse. Better wait for sundown. When the cool time comes he may work
round."

The man ceased speaking, and his companions laid in their oars before
sinking down in the bottom of the boat and resting their heavy heads
against the sides.

As for Mark, the rest of that afternoon passed as if he were in some
fevered dream, during which he was back home at the Devon rectory,
telling his father and mother of his adventures with the slaver. Then
he was bathing in a beautiful river, whose water suddenly grew painfully
hot and scalded him. After that there was a long blank time, and
imagination grew busy again, his brain dwelling upon the chase of the
slaver, and he saw through his glass the splash in the moonlit water, as
one of the poor wretches was thrown overboard to stay the progress of
the _Nautilus_.

Soon after some one touched him, and he started up to find that all was
dark, and that the edge of a dense cloud was silvered by the moon, while
a face was bent down close to his.

"What's the matter?" he cried, excitedly.

"Things is getting wuss, sir. Mr Russell's lying there talking like in
his sleep, and t'others have got it bad. You and me's the only two as
have any sense left."

"I--I couldn't understand for a bit, Tom," said Mark, making an effort.
"It all seemed puzzling, but I think I know now."

"That's